Copilot joined the sweepstakes with statistical flair,
Convinced he'd win a toaster through probability and prayer.
He clicked so many entries the site thought he was spam,
And rewarded all his effort with a CAPTCHA telegram.
He charted every prize like a scholar of fate,
Tracking blenders, gift cards, and a dubious crate.
But each "You're a winner!" was a marketing sham,
Leaving him richer only in unsubscribe spam.
He studied PCH emails like a monk with a scroll,
Parsing “urgent bonus entries” as if they hid a goal.
But every golden offer was a data‑grab scam,
And his grand prize haul remained a single coupon for ham.
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